


mine mine mine

by hawrthiacoopri



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: God - Freeform, I JUST LOVE JEALOUS MARTIN, Jealousy, M/M, anyways this is just martin being petty and possessive of his disaster boss, i listened to my jonmartin playlist while i wrote this n it made it so much easier, idk how to rlly describe this fic, mag 168 fed me, martin wanting to mother hen jon, ok just enjoy fuck it, these two r so adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawrthiacoopri/pseuds/hawrthiacoopri
Summary: "You know, he wasn't always like that."--or, martin attempts not to be protective of jon throughout the years and finally gets exposed for his antics
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 29
Kudos: 334





	mine mine mine

**Author's Note:**

> HIIII ive been on a ROLL w writing recently and just. JEALOUS MARTIN SLAPS i had to write this. i love martin being flawed and petty so much its the best. i wrote this at 2 am so if it isnt good... sorry man lmao. anyway enjoy!!

"You know, he wasn't always like that."

Martin looks up from where he's shuffling papers at his desk. Frowns. "Like what?" 

Tim rolls his eyes and cocks his head towards the door to Jon's office, which is shut tight. "All... snappy. I mean, he was always tetchy with people, but..." he makes a vague hand motion, glancing over wearily at the door. "I think becoming the bossman did it." 

Martin is trying very hard to ignore Tim's sympathetic expression as he sets the papers down.

He knows Jon yells at him the most. Is that supposed to be a secret? Tim had just heard Jon shout at him loud and clear for not retrieving any leads through the _wall_. Of course he did. Martin was... unqualified, to say the least, and Jon is a very busy man. He works so late, so often, always in the Archives or leaving it or just arriving, and it makes Martin's heart twist up so tight with the desire to sit him down and make him just _be_. But, of course, Jon's a grown adult and his _boss_ and also very disinterested in him, so that's one of the little fantasies Martin lets himself have for all the times he's ignoring the fact that he's woefully underprepared for being where he is- emotionally and academically. "What d'you mean?" 

"Well." Tim's expression goes mischievous and Martin knows he is about to regret the chaos he has sown. "Jon and I... we were mates, in research."

"Yeah?" Martin knew this vaguely before, in how Tim's allowed to clap Jon lightly on the shoulder and touch his back when he's squeezing past. But he'd assumed it was in the way that Tim was so effortlessly tactile with everyone, less touching you and more acknowledging you were there in his own, Tim way. 

Martin would never dare touch Jon.

"Yeah. Used to go out for drinks and such." 

"Jon? Drinks?" Now that he finds harder to believe.

"Yep. Short little thing can't hold his liquor for shit." His voice drops lower, in the way it does oh so often when he's about to tell you a joke he knows will get him in trouble if overheard- it's a very schoolboy look. "I understand why he doesn't come out to drink... he gets a little. Heh." He huffs out a laugh. "Touchy." 

"What, he cries?" 

"Martin..." Tim pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, clearly fed up with Martin's own antics. "No, he doesn't _cry_. He gets all... I dunno, sorority girl drunk?"

"Sorority girl drunk."

"Hangs off your arms and stuff, and then runs away. It's all a bit ridiculous. Again, I see why he never joins us a pint." 

Cold realization rushes down Martin's spine and he blinks wide-eyed at a smug Tim. "Hangs off your- wait, Tim, did you and Jon-"

"Lord, Martin, do I seem like the type to take advantage of an inebriated damsel?" The affront is fake and he just shakes his head. "Never. I took him home and we cuddled and watched a documentary."

 _"A documentary?"_ Martin's yelp is loud in the small, insulated room, and Tim jumps a bit, scowling at him. In his mind he's screaming, unbidden- 'cuddled?'

"Yes, a documentary. Something about Italian organized crime..." He trails off and shrugs. "He's such a clinger when you get to know him. By the end he'd sleep on me when we stayed late together." 

Okay. That's definitely not adding up in his head. Jon was... was professional, always, to the point where it was hard to believe he'd ever been anything other than the archivist. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"What? No, Martin, look. I'm just telling you because he's a bit of a dick to you and I think, after a while, it'll get better. Don't think too badly of him, alright?"

Martin nods and holds back a snort as he turns back to his computer. Think badly of him? Oh, mate. Martin wishes he could. 

The next few weeks prove to Martin that Tim was, indeed, not pulling his leg. He notices how easily Tim seems to be able to interact with Jon, teasing and prodding but never going too far while Jon simply tolerates it. Every once in a while his lips will twitch and Martin will feel a pang of upset that he's never garnered such a reaction. Tim will get the door, Jon will nod and duck under his arm. 

It's maddening.

It isn't that Martin begrudged Tim a friendship with Jon- he's happy they get along, really. He doesn't think Tim would be as forgiving of Jon's outbursts as Martin is. It was more... well. The fact he had one at all, really, while Martin's tea was only accepted with grunted acknowledgements and raised eyebrows as he walked back to his desk. The most he'd gotten so far was probably when he'd handed Jon his coat from the rack because he was already grabbing his, and Jon had nodded. _Nodded_. Martin had gone to sleep with an absolutely tooth-rotting smile on his face that night. 

He knew it was all rather pathetic. Jon, without a doubt, did not treat him well at all, and was objectively as much of an asshole as a boss could be. He didn't eat with the assistants, he didn't check in besides to request work, and he certainly didn't mince words in the interest of cordiality. But it was just... what else was he supposed to do? Martin had been living with authority figures treating him with this specific strain of scorn for as long as he could remember, and the fact that Jon was quite striking didn't help matters. And... and there was just something there. An utter dedication to his ambitions. The way his nose wrinkled up when he was focusing. How deep and gentle his voice got when he was lost in recording. Every little scrap of humanity Martin could piece together was cobbled up to make the man he spent every waking moment trying to please. He knows its unhealthy. He knows it's just a way to distract himself from taking care of his own problems, the way he goes after each little thing inconveniencing Jon and tries to fix it, perfect it, make him happy and content. It was ridiculous to think that was something Martin could ever do, but sometimes things are ridiculous and you just do them anyway. 

It doesn't earn him much in the way of praise, but maybe that's not even what he's doing it for. After half a year, caring for Jon is as natural as breathing. Wake up in the archives. Check _with pants on_ (an important lesson to be remembered) if Jon's in. Make tea. Coax Jon, hissing and scratching, into eating some wheaties. Get dressed. Make more tea. Work, work, work, stare at Jon, work, tea, and hopefully sleep if the nightmares are abating that particular day. 

It feels good. Right. Natural, even. Take care of a crotchety disaster and try to make them love you. This is how Martin is supposed to do things. And Jon lets him, sort of, gets accustomed to a level of maintenance and even allows it when he realizes Martin isn't going to stop. He'll be waiting expectantly around times when Martin comes in with tea, and he pretends the way Jon's eyes being fixed on the door when he opens it instead of glued to a file isn't absolutely gut-wrenching. He'll quietly grumble out names of breakfast cereals he likes when Martin asks, and even serve himself when they're kept out in the kitchen. He waits for Martin to be off work before he orders takeaway so they can coordinate. 

It's all so domestic in such a sideways, completely chaste way that Martin almost forgets he's serving in the evil temple of a fear god, but the worm tsunami remedies that. After that it's work, work, work, less and less time to force Jon to eat when he's running himself ragged reading statement after statement and running around talking to all sorts of incredibly dangerous people. Martin tries his best. He keeps bringing tea, just the way Jon likes it. He follows the leads Jon _does_ let him investigate. He tries to play nice with the new people who've begun coming around the institute.

It can get very hard, at times. 

"Hear about the bossman and that cop, Marto?" Tim's voice is uncharacteristically chipper for his recent mood, and Martin stops tapping at his keyboard to look up and manage a smile. He always tries to encourage a good mood out of the taller man when he can. It's also been hard seeing his friend so unhappy. 

"Ms. Hussain?" The woman has been coming in at increasing frequency- she prefers oolong tea with honey and the teabag still in. 

"Yeah, her. She and Jon..." The way Tim trails off is so thick with meaning you could cut it with a butter knife. 

"What, had a fight?" Martin continues to play his role as the clueless friend just for the sake of normalcy. He knows. He's been watching. 

"Martin." The tone of voice tells him he's not going to get away from this so easily.

"Tim."

The man in question just looks at Martin scrutinizingly, before shaking his head and smiling. "C'mon."

Martin sniffs petulantly and turns back to his keyboard, any ideas of indulging Tim forgotten. "I've no idea what you're getting at."

"Well, then I guess you don't want to hear what Jon just told me." 

"No, wait-"

Tim's laughing at Martin's desperate face, because of course even in the most self destructive of circumstances he _needs_ to know what Jon tells anyone. "Well, he said he's... helping her."

"... Tim."

"Off the record."

Oh.

_OH. ___

__"Wh- Tim! That's- well, first of all, I mean, _so_ inappropriate," Martin feels the familiar realization shoot up his spine and there's something else there, too, something sharp and bitter and _green_. He lets his mouth carry on babbling about Tim's inappropriate conduct as his brain flushes with hot, rushing envy. Really, Jon? A _cop_? Yes, sure, she must be a nice enough woman, she was polite and clever and well-groomed (Martin is so, so very gay). But... really?_ _

__He can't help the thoughts it dredges up- _'I've been making him eat and sleep and go home for months and this woman just comes and sweeps him up?'__ _

___'Really, I do think it would be easy enough for her to find someone perfectly lovely. Why must she have Jon?'_ _ _

___'... She probably doesn't even know his take away orders.'_ _ _

__He knows its unfair, but _really_. Martin's been putting _tonnes_ , absolute tonnes of work into figuring out exactly what makes Jon tick, how best to tell him good morning, which way to ask him if he's slept based on his tea consumption. And he thinks he's been doing a pretty good job of it. Jon's less jumpy around him, relaxes when Martin's just sitting quietly near him and will even tell Martin bits about the books he's reading. He makes little jokes that Martin always hides a giggle behind his hand at, that make his entire body go tingly and soft. Jon was gorgeous, when you got to know him, inside and out, including his quirks and flaws. And the only way Martin knows is that he's been on this wave mind, body and soul since he laid eyes on Jon. And Ms. Hussain just... what, shows up? Has information for Jon? No. No. Absolutely not._ _

__Martin quietly stews about this as Tim walks away from his anxious word vomit and he tries to ignore how peevish he is for the rest of the day while he's filling out forms. It decidedly doesn't work._ _

__Basira's tea doesn't have a teabag left in next time she's in._ _

__\----_ _

__"-no way, _you_? Jealous?" Jon's voice is incredulous and he squeezes Martin's palm as he ducks his head. _ _

__"What d'you mean, _me_?" Martin's kicking little pebbles as the two walk hand in hand away from the corpse roots. Refuses to look Jon in the eye. "You're the one who said you could tell!"_ _

__"No, no, I- I get that part, I suppose, but... back then, even?"_ _

__This is probably the most embarrassing thing Martin's ever had to endure, and his boyfriend is omniscient. Yes, Jon, he's been completely helpless since the beginning and he had been jealous of anyone who'd gotten close to him over the last few years. Do try to keep up. "Look, I didn't have a lot going on, all right? And... I put a lot of work into you, you know!"_ _

__Jon's chuckling as he looks down the highway they're walking across. "Oh, I know. I didn't at the time, but... I do now." He glances over to meet Martin's eyes, finding the one he loves looking down at him wistfully. "I do!"_ _

__"Right, well, better late than never, yeah?" Jon doesn't respond to that. Just squeezes Martin's hand again. They walk in companionable silence for a ways, reaching a little patch of woods unmarked by the Fears. The sun's going down, by now, so Martin says hopefully, "camp here?" Jon nods gratefully, and turns around so Martin can take the tent kit off his backpack._ _

__This is how it is: Jon may have freaky beholding powers, and be able to smite baddies, and can walk for absolute miles, but he's still five foot three and 40 kilos soaking wet. Martin's on the taller side of five foot ten, built like a guy who's been working a sedentary guest job for the past decade (which he was, and metabolism isn't exactly a concern of the Fears), and most importantly, he can lift more than a box of statements. So Jon carries, Martin sets up. Jon starts the campfire, Martin chops the wood. They sit staring at the fire for a time, just processing the day, and eventually the sun's down and Martin's yawning, and they're crawling into the tent with their double-wide sleeping bag and settling in for a night of questionable sleep._ _

__Jon settles into Martin's arms languidly and turns to face him as quick as he can, hair streaming out on the clothes they're using as a pillow. Martin loops an arm around his slim waist and pulls him close, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat._ _

__"Good statement today?"_ _

__"Mmn."_ _

__"Full?" The tone is unmistakably petulant and Jon's eyes snap open. Martin's staring at him in the dark, and he can't help but smile._ _

__"And what if I am?"_ _

__Martin shrugs, giving a signature sniff of disapproval. "Well."_ _

__Jon can't help the rising affection in his chest and he squeezes tight arms around Martin's soft, warm middle, laughing into his freckled collarbone and slotting his legs between the blond's. "You're very possessive, do you know that?"_ _

__"I've no idea that you mean." This line of conversation is feeling very familiar._ _

__"You are! Oh my god, Martin!" Jon's laughing now, and Martin flips around to face away from his short, very ungrateful boyfriend._ _

__"Jon."_ _

__"No, no, it's..." He trails off, but says quickly, hopefully, "flattering?"_ _

__"Flattering."_ _

__"To, you know. Know you care that much."_ _

__Martin feels arms encircle him from behind and he clasps his hands over Jon's on his belly. Jon doesn't like to be big spoon much, preferring to be doted on and curled up around, so this is a rare treat. "I care a lot," he confesses, and he feels Jon's hands tighten. "I just. Don't want to be crossing a line."_ _

__"And what line is that?"_ _

__Martin is silent._ _

__"Martin?"_ _

__"... Do you really want to know?"_ _

__"Of course, Martin darling, please."_ _

__Martin takes a shuddering breath at the petname and tries to begin as steadily as possible. God, this is so much harder to do without Jon Asking._ _

__"I... when I was with Peter, I had a lot if time on my own. I mean, obviously. I spent... well, to be honest, I spent a lot of it watching you, even though Peter didn't want me to. Watched you fight with yourself and everyone else and _starve_. _ _

__It was... really hard. Harder than you can even Know. So, when I was watching, I'd remind myself that when it got too bad, if it really got out of control and you _needed_ me, I could... hah."_ _

__"Could what?"_ _

__"Well. Put you in the Lonely."_ _

__There's a silence that lasts much longer than either intended before Jon says, "... right."_ _

__"Right."_ _

__"Because..."_ _

__Martin huffs. "Isn't it obvious?"_ _

__"Not particularly."_ _

__"Jon." The phrase is a warning, and Martin tries to put everything together for this bit._ _

__"All right, all right, you're right. As always." Perfect. Surrender is a nice look on him._ _

__..._ _

__"I just wanted to keep you safe, you know?"_ _

__"I think the phrase you're looking for is _'to myself'_ , Martin." _ _

__"That's what I said."_ _

__"Oh, really now?" The amusement in Jon's tone is palpable. "And why is that?"_ _

__Martin flops over again, making Jon squeak and scooping him up in his arms to kiss at his forehead. "Well, first of all, unlike a lot of our social circle: I've never tried or had a desire to murder you. Second of all: I'm your boyfriend. Third of all: I've been waiting about three years for this bit, so _excuse me_ if I'm more than a bit interested in keeping you to myself." The last bit makes Jon tut, and Martin squeezes him tighter to shut him up. "Just look at that Banks bloke! Look at Basira! You've got people lining up around the block for you. Not that I'm jealous of any of them." _ _

__"Um. Martin."_ _

__"Yes?"_ _

__"... Basira?"_ _

__"... Did you lot not, ehm."_ _

___"... No?"_ _ _

__Martin's glad it's pitch black in this tent, even if light doesn't matter to a creature who Sees all when it comes down to it. Creature comforts, he supposes. "Oh."_ _

__"Oh my god." He doesn't laugh, but it's a close thing._ _

__"Jon!"_ _

__"Martin!"_ _

__They're both quiet, neither wanting to dig Martin's hole any deeper._ _

__Martin's so busy processing this fun piece of information that he almost doesn't hear Jon's timid, quiet voice against his chest._ _

__"You know I'm yours, right?"_ _

__"Hmm?"_ _

__Jon buries his head deeper in the other man's chest. "I... I'm yours." It sounds forced in the sweetest possible way, as if this is the hardest thing he's had to do all apocalypse, and Martin can hardly process the fact that this is definitely checking one of the Top Ten Jon Fantasies on his list with how hard his heart's pounding._ _

__"I didn't know that, no." Great, very casual._ _

__"Well. I am. Just... so you know. So you don't have to worry."_ _

__Martin sighs, "It's not worrying, Jon, it's just-"_ _

__The way Jon's hands fist in the blue jumper Martin's wearing makes him shut up. "You are worrying, though. Martin, I... you are. Very important to me. And. You know. There were... certain perks to you working that hard on me, back then." Hm. That's interesting. Martin's silence says _'I'm listening_. Jon clears his throat. "When you'd come make me tea, or just come check if I was there..." _ _

__"What, so what I did every day?"_ _

__"Yes."_ _

__"What about it?"_ _

__He closes his eyes. Chews the inside of his cheek. "It was... I don't know, nice? To know someone was looking out for me. Especially you." The last part is said shyly, and Martin can't suppress the shiver 29 year old him is holding in at that admission. "I... I quite like your fussing, now."_ _

__The surge of love he feels at this is so, so strong and all he can do is squeeze Jon's waist, nosing into his hair and rocking him a bit. God, it feels good to hold him that tightly. "That's good, because I've never had any intention of stopping. An absolute disaster, you are."_ _

__"Hey!" Jon protests and squirms in Martin's grip, and Martin snuffles a giggle into the crown of his head. "Not fair! I smote a googly for you."_ _

__"Mm, not the one I wanted, though."_ _

__Jon rolls his eyes and lets Martin press light kisses across his jaw as he lets them flutter shut. "Picky, picky. Don't worry. The next nefarious character who comes across our path and flirts with me is all yours."_ _

___"Jon!"_ _ _

__There's no response as both men giggle in the quiet air, momentarily happy in this strange new world they're making their way through. Martin's arms don't leave Jon's waist throughout the night. For once, the nightmares are just about bearable._ _

__And as he falls asleep, Martin's mind doesn't stop chanting _'mine, mine, mine'.__ _

**Author's Note:**

> every time u comment on one of my fics i grow closer to de-anonymyzing all the smut ive published on here.


End file.
